I GET A SHOT. 35 



I would have hit the stag if I had not been shooting with a rifle with 

 strange sights. The rifle itself, although a familiar model, was a 

 new one. I will tell you how that was after I explain what took place 

 when the rifle cracked. 



At first I thought I had hit my mark, because the spurt of mud 

 seemed below the level of the stag's back, and he squatted slightly, 

 suggesting the giving downward of the back which a deer always 

 shows when he has been hit in the body. The feeling that I had 

 overshot was verified by Donald, who said quickly: "Jtrist over him, 

 juist over him." 



The deer hesitated for a few seconds before he sprang away. I 

 might have tried another shot, but I was too disheartened to attempt it. 



I was not feeling very gay over my performance, as you can imagine, 

 and I felt for an instant ashamed before my stalker, also I was 

 dreading what he might say in criticism. But this was not that sort 

 of man. Never did anyone find more quickly good and sufficient 

 reasons for missing than Donald found for me then. "The position 

 was a bad 'un," he said. "And 'tis verra, verra hard to shoot when 

 one iss so cauld ; and the light was bad." 



I appreciated it all, but you know how I felt toward myself, and 

 you can imagine what my feelings were for Donald. It was so with 

 him always. Through sheerest love of fair play and wishing to give 

 me good sport, he always found the best of excuses for my mistakes 

 and the highest praise for every reasonably good thing I did. 



About the rifle, the situation was this : I had bought a Ross .280 

 before I left this country and I had fallen madly in love with it. 

 Its high muzzle velocity of 3,050 feet per second gave such a flat 

 trajectory that up to 400 yards one need not worry about elevation 

 if shooting at deer. The recoil was of no consequence; the piece 

 balanced like a well built shotgun. 



I could manipulate the bolt with my one hand very readily and 

 the rifle shot where I held it, and besides, it carried a sharp, hollow 

 copper-pointed bullet cartridge which for killing effect seemed almost 

 incredibly capable. But, as so often happens, another man wanted 

 the gun and I let him have it, relying upon the Ross people being 

 able to send me another of the same model to Scotland for such 

 incidental uses as I would require of a rifle. Remember, at the time, 



